


rumors and a proposition

by nightbirdrises



Series: Sinking 'verse [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So much for forgetting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rumors and a proposition

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for this segment: none. **Bold** indicates sign language.
> 
> You can read Sinking in chronological order using [this page](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/sinking), or you can read it in the order of events as I wrote them [here](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/tagged/v%3A+sinking/chrono).

The whistle blew, and Blaine took the cue to run, eyes focused on the ball set up yards, now feet, now inches away until he kicked it. It sailed through the air with the slightest wobble, and Blaine sighed in frustration even before he watched it fall to the left of the goal.

"Good form, Anderson," Coach Beiste said, and Blaine turned to her. "Making the goal will come with practice, alright? Don’t beat yourself up over it."

"Thanks Coach," he mumbled, not quite convinced. He was grateful that she’d allowed him to attend the rest of the tryout days despite missing the first, but he hadn’t been performing up to his usual standard. If he was honest with himself, Blaine was distracted.

It didn’t help that his eyes strayed to the edge of the bleachers during every break, where he could make out the outline of someone sitting against the metal railing that lined the stairs.

"Hummel’s bad news." Blaine jumped, tearing his gaze away for what must have been the millionth time this week. He was face-to-face with one of the senior receivers, Noah Puckerman, who nodded sagely. "I may be a badass, but that kid is so much worse."

"How so?" Blaine asked carefully, trying not to seem too eager. He wanted to learn all he could about Kurt, but by the way the other guys talked about him, it was a bad idea to appear too involved.

"At least  _I_  know when to stop,” Puck said, tossing a water bottle to Blaine. “Hummel just… doesn’t.”

"He’s deaf, though, isn’t he?"

"Yeah, but don’t go feeling sorry for him. I heard that he’ll get a quick fuck outta anyone and just dump ‘em once he gets bored. Messes with the nice guys, that kind of thing."

Blaine nodded, swallowing a little more water than was necessary as he digested this information. It couldn’t be true, could it? Had he just been another ‘nice guy’ opportunity?

"And Quinn?" he asked.

"Don’t," Puck said shortly. "Whatever you’re thinking, don’t."

"No, I wasn’t— I’m not interested in her," Blaine finished lamely. He wasn’t out at McKinley, and until he could figure out how the school would react, he wasn’t planning on making any announcements.

"Good. I messed up her life enough, the last thing I need is a decent guy like you on my conscience too." Puck ran back out to the field with the other hopeful receivers, and Blaine was left to his own thoughts since he and the other two kickers were done until the last ten minutes of the day, when the final cuts would be announced.

He found himself alone on the bench as the other kickers headed to the locker rooms to change ahead of time. Blaine closed his eyes against the glare of the sun and dragged a hand through his helmet-mussed hair, wincing at the thought of how terrible it probably looked. At least during a game no one really cared about the state of his hair.

"Not bad." Blaine jumped again, swearing under his breath — he’d have to be more aware of his surroundings, it seemed. But he knew this voice, knew it too well. "I kicked for the team a couple years ago."

Blaine opened his eyes and turned his head towards the bleachers. Kurt Hummel was standing with his arms propped up on the railing, a smirk on his face and a lit cigarette being twirled deftly between two fingers.

"And?"

"And we won for the first time that year." Blaine wasn’t sure why Kurt was telling him this, and he almost wished for someone to notice them and intervene. Another part of him, though, wanted to listen to the sound of Kurt’s voice all day long — it was a shock to realize that Kurt couldn’t hear it himself.

Blaine glanced at the field, where Coach Beiste was going through some drill — and no one was looking their way. When he turned back to Kurt, he saw that the dry-erase board was back, and he squinted to read it.

_After you make it — meet me at Scandals tonight?_

"Scandals," he mouthed, and Kurt nodded. "Gay bar?"

 _I can get an ID for you_ , Kurt wrote. _What do you say?_

Blaine wanted to decline the offer, he really did. He couldn’t afford to be involved with Kurt, no matter how entrancing he was. According to Puck, this was just some kind of sick game.

_Decide quick, my stepbrother’s coming_

Blaine spun around to see Finn Hudson walking towards him, looking more like an angry puppy than a threatening quarterback.  _They’re stepbrothers?_  he wondered, but he didn’t have time to think — he nodded to Kurt, whose expression lit up in what appeared to be genuine delight, but Blaine couldn’t be sure as it was gone in an instant.

"Dude, get outta here," Finn shouted. "You know it’s a closed tryout."

Kurt cupped a hand around his ear in a mocking semblance of innocence, shrugging a shoulder.

"You know what I said," Finn muttered, but he signed something anyways. Kurt grinned as he stood up straight, adjusted the backpack that hung over his shoulder, and shoved his hands into his pockets before wandering off. "You’re Blaine, right?"

"That’s me," he said slowly; Blaine was still processing what had just happened.

"Cool. It’s nice to meet you, man." Finn stood there for a few seconds during which Blaine became increasingly uncomfortable for some unknown reason.

"Is there something you wanted to say, or…"

"Just, uh, be careful around him, okay?" Finn said, tipping his head towards the bleachers. "I can’t stop you from talking to the guy, and I don’t know if you’re even into guys—"

"It’s not a problem," Blaine interrupted him. "I’m not— I mean, we’re not—" He sighed. "Look, I’ll stay away from him."

"Great! So, I’m pretty sure you made the team and if you want to come with, me and a few of the guys are going to Sam’s place for video games and stuff later."

 _Say yes, say yes, say yes—_  “Sorry, I have other plans,” Blaine said. “Chores and… and stuff.”  _Smooth._

"Ah, that sucks. Maybe another time then."

"Yeah, maybe." Blaine smiled — he liked Finn, even if he was still on the fence about the guy’s stepbrother. "I think they want us back over there," he added, watching as Beiste gestured towards them.

"You’re in, trust me," Finn said, clapping Blaine’s shoulder a little too hard before they both started back to the field. "Those other guys had nothing on you."

"Thanks," was all Blaine could say. Strangely enough, he already felt like part of the team, even before the season had begun.

"Is everybody here?" Coach Beiste called once they reached the center. "Alright, I’m gonna do this like a Band-Aid, so no whining and no chair-kicking." She glared directly at Finn, who shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Simmons, Thomas, Wheeler, Jameson, Hernandez, Israel — you’re all out. The rest of you, congratulations. Practice starts next Monday after school — don’t be late!"

"Can I get some interviews—"

"Israel, out!"

"Told you," Finn said happily, grinning at Blaine as they walked back to the locker rooms. "Sure you can’t come with us later?"

"Probably not, my parents are pretty strict about that kind of thing," Blaine lied. In all honesty, his parents didn’t really pay attention to what he did. As long as he wasn’t getting in trouble with the law, they were perfectly content with letting him do whatever he wanted.

 _Except meet strange guys at gay bars_ , he thought, but it wasn’t as though he was going to tell them.

He changed quickly and left the locker rooms before anyone else could talk to him, checking his watch: 5:47 PM.

"To recap, I’ll be seeing you later, right?"

"You are really good at this sneaking-up-on-people thing," Blaine said once he’d turned to see Kurt leaning against a support beam just outside the door.

"That or you’re distracted," Kurt suggested, winking. "What is on your mind, Blaine Anderson?"

"Right now? I’m seriously reconsidering this meet-up."

"Uh-huh. I’ll have your ID ready and I’ll see you at eight." 

"Anything else?" Blaine asked, resigned to being completely unable to resist Kurt. Even from feet away, he could smell that oddly pleasant mixture of smoke and something else that he’d started to come to associate with the boy rather than the memory of a family trip.

"Learn some basic sign language," Kurt hummed thoughtfully. He signed something and laughed at the clueless expression on Blaine’s face. "Look it up."

With that, he sauntered away again, leaving Blaine — to his dismay — utterly speechless.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, before he left his house, Blaine searched the Internet for the phrase that Kurt had signed to him. After a grueling hunt for the right gestures, he thought he finally figured it out — and he couldn’t help the sudden heat that rose in every particle of his being.

 _I’m in way too deep_ , he thought. _If I had any common sense, I’d forget about all of this._ Like he’d tried to do after that first day, after his first taste of Kurt Hummel. But looking at the short, three-word sentence on the screen, he knew he had already taken the plunge. Now, it was just a matter of staying afloat.

He closed out of the browser and shut his laptop with a click, three words ringing in his mind as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

**I want you**


End file.
